A poem offering comfort in a time of sorrow.

The House on Hope Avenue

How can I go on living with all this pain?
When the pain cuts so deeply and it won’t wane.

I’m told about a golden house up on Hope Avenue.
People tell me it will create me anew.

What is this dwelling I am to go?
Will it cure me of all my burden woes?

Will it help me understand how I can feel so blue?
Will I find solace up on Hope Avenue.

Please, oh please, help me if you can
For I am so desperate, I’m thinking of a final exit plan.

As I enter through the welcoming archway of this old House named Hope
I am handed a golden key by an angel who said to call him Cope.

With key in hand I followed Cope into the golden house’s maze.
Soon another angel named Comfort walked with us as we made our way through more fuzzy haze.

We came to an opening with brilliant rivers and towering flowers
The air smelled fresh with the residue of past nourishing rain showers

Cope and Comfort stood firmly by my side.
Amazingly, I started to feel I no longer needed a shell in which to hide.

I started to study this golden key
Wondering what it really should mean to me.

I finally figured out what was to be
It was to take responsibility for me.

As I grab tightly to my key of gold.
I started to feel confident and bold.

Visions of peace and happiness seep into my soul.
My heart is radiating with warmth rather than being a miserable burning hole.

You may ask is it ever possible to handle the sorrow
When you feel like you have no strength and non you can borrow.

If you believe you have self worth, you will find the strength
With the depth of your determination being perpetual in length

We are all pulsating souls drifting through life
Bouncing into one another to help with everyday strife.


That is the gift I received from the golden house with the amazing angel crew
The gift of allowing ourselves to need and nurture others is what goes on in that old house up in Hope Avenue.